


"Trust me, Watson?" "Not really, but go ahead."

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Joanlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They often play games, competing with each other in order to hone their skills and test their capabilities. </p><p>----------<br/>Prompted by tumblr posts of writerfan2013 and amindamazed to which I would link if I had the capability. Let's see if this works:  http://amindamazed.tumblr.com/post/135978500853<br/>----------</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Trust me, Watson?" "Not really, but go ahead."

"Keep your eyes closed."

Joan scrunched her eyes closed even tighter. 

"Okay now hold your nose and open your mouth. This is an easy one." Sherlock placed a kernel of popcorn onto her lips and watched as they wrapped around it and took the morsel within.

The odd shape, weight and texture alerted her immediately to what he had given her. "Popcorn." She crunched down and waited for his confirmation. She felt the soft brush of his finger on her lower lip, swiping slowly across. She opened her eyes and caught a rapturous look on his face as he stared at her mouth. 

"Ss ...sss salt" he stammered. "You had some .... a grain of ... " her eyes teased him. "...salt."

"Ohh," she said with a hint of disbelief. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat and took on a more officious tone. "Come on, then. No cheating. Eyes closed."

Joan defended her honor, "I was not cheating. I do not cheat."

"Alright, yes .. I know ... Just close your eyes and hold your nose."

She did as told. Sherlock, seated on the floor right in front of her, pressed a grape onto her lips. Joan held it for a split second, letting her lips define the shape of the object before fully taking it into her mouth. She rolled it within, getting a sense of it before biting into it. The skin broke and the juice of the fruit flowed across her tongue. Without use of the olfactory sense, taste was elusive, but she up knew what it was.

Sherlock watched, admiring the workings of her mouth and the evidence of the toils of her tongue therein as she worked at identifying the food.

"Grape," she concluded.

His response was immediate, "Yes, but what type of grape?"

Eyes still closed, Joan's tongue pressed and examined the remains of the grape in her mouth, determining the thickness of the skin, remembering the size and shape of the intact object ... "Concord!" 

Sherlock smiled and without thinking rewarded those lips that had done so well with a wisp of a touch from his own lips. 

Joan's eyes popped open. Amused by the startled look on his face, Joan delicately licked her lips. 

He blinked and quickly tore his gaze away from hers. Sherlock chided her to hide his embarrassment. "Eyes closed ....we're not done yet."

Joan closed her eyes once more. "Okay," she whispered, "I'm ready for the next one."

He picked up the small cube of pear and held it. Her face, serene and trusting before him, mesmerized him. Sherlock sat motionless as a battle for self control raged.

Except for their soft breathing, silence fell between them. Joan's lids lifted. She sought out his eyes. Large and open, they allowed her access to what lay within, all that he kept tightly hidden from the world.

"Close your eyes," she murmured and, setting down the small cube of fruit, Sherlock did as she bade him.

Afraid to startle him with too forward an action, Joan first brushed his lips with her thumb. His lips parted, caressing her thumb with an almost imperceptible kiss as it slowly swept across.

Incrementally she reached for him, lips met lightly and separated several times before more forceful contact was made. His lips crushed into hers as his hand reached for her, curling about her neck. She responded in kind, hand threading through his hair, pressing him to her. Open mouthed, they sought each other, igniting the small passion that always smoldered, just below the surface, between them. 

The need for air forced them apart. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, they breathed each other in. Sherlock swept his head down to the crook of her neck and Joan responded, wrapping her arms around him, tilting her body to meet his. Behind him, she caught sight of the tray of taste items he'd prepared. 

"Is that baba-ganoush?"

The tone of her voice froze Sherlock in mid-nibble. 

"You know I hate baba-ganoush." She pushed away from him. "I got sick on it as a child, still can't eat it and yet you were going to feed that to me?" Her look was decidedly less than amorous as she awaited his response.

"Your dislike is based on experience, not taste or texture. I thought if you tried it out of context you would ...."

Joan extricated herself from his embrace, stood and pinned him with a look of angered disappointment before walking out of the room. 

"Watson ... Watson ... Wait." He scampered up after her. "It was for your own .... " The slamming of her bedroom door reverberated through the brownstone. 

Dejected, Sherlock returned to where they had just sat, berating himself for his lack of sensitivity. He was sure whatever had just passed between them was now lost; gone by the work of his own hand. He glanced at the tray of taste test items Watson had prepared for him and raised its plastic cover. One in particular grabbed his attention.

He bolted upright. "Liver!" Sherlock bellowed. "You were going to feed me liver?!" His face turned bright red. "Hypocrite!" He yelled as he stormed up the stairs to her room.


End file.
